The Palm of Your Hand
by IShouldBeWriting
Summary: Jess turned him down and Becker knows exactly why. But is he willing to do something about it or will he choose to continue hiding? The next in my "Breakable" series following "The Strength of Love..."


~ooOOoo~

"_Someday, after mastering the winds, the waves, the tides and gravity, we shall harness for God the energies of love, and then, for a second time in the history of the world, man will have discovered fire." - _Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

~ooOOoo~

_It should all have been so simple,_ Becker thought tiredly. _Ask her to marry me and she says yes. Where had it all gone wrong?_

He was sitting in the grey light of dawn in the courtyard at the center of Allen Hall seminary. He'd seen dawn here so many times in his adolescence that there was a comfort in seeing it thusly once again. Novices were steadily emerging from the dormitories on their way to matins. A few of them looked at him curiously as they passed, but none questioned his place there.

Becker finally lifted his head from his hands turning a stoney, expressionless face toward his former mentor. He'd shut down again. Emotions wiped from his face as if he were nothing more than a statue. Father Kellan Ferrick regarded him silently. The early morning light made the creases and wrinkles of his face more pronounced. Reminding Becker once again that his dear friend was no longer the middle aged man he'd been when they first met. Kellan waited with a tranquil patience that Becker had never been able to master for himself.

"She turned me down," he stated flatly, believing it was all the explanation he needed to give.

"Did she give you a reason?" Kellan asked in return.

"Says she won't accept anything less than the entirety of my body and heart," Becker shook his head tiredly, "tell me, Father, do I still have it to give?"

"Why don't you come to matins with me?" he gestured toward the chapel, "and perhaps afterwards we can untangle this mess over breakfast."

"I'm not appropriately dressed," Becker argued weakly.

Father Ferrick gave him a stern look in response.

"You know quite well, Hilary, that God doesn't care one wit about what you are wearing. And anyone inside that chapel who gives you grief will get a strongly worded lecture from me on the duty owed to their parishioners when so obviously in need of counsel."

Becker smirked hearing once again the steeled tone of the army captain beneath the clipped wording of his former teacher. It appeared that in the same way that he could not entirely give up some of the habits of his former faith, his mentor could not give up some of the habits of command.

He looked at the chapel with consideration. Warm light streamed outward from it's windows into the courtyard in long colored ribbons. With a nod of his head, he rose from the bench and waited politely for him friend to join him.

Voices raised in a prayerful song that rolled and echoed off the chapel's stones as they found a place within the pews. He bowed his head, looking at the faintly reddish hue of the old wooden rosary beads in his hand. Ironic that he'd prayed more in the past year since Jess came into his life than in the entire decade prior. Which inevitably led him back to thoughts of the previous evening.

They'd made dinner reservations at a trendy restaurant - Le Vacherin - a bit more than a mile from Jess' flat. The sight of her standing to greet him in the doorway, wearing a simple indigo blue halter dress, had been the devil's own temptation. She was lovely; her bare shoulders and back peeking demurely out through the pattern of a loosely knit cardigan. They'd enjoyed a leisurely walk to the restaurant, dined superbly, then ambled their way back to Jess' flat chattering comfortably all the while.

When they returned, Abby & Connor had been engrossed in a movie in the lounge. Not feeling in the mood to join in on a movie already in progress, Becker and Jess had retreated to her room to continue their conversation. Sitting across from each other on her bed, they'd debated the merits of trendy restaurant attempts to re-create the comfort foods of childhood.

Jess had taken off her sweater and laid it on the end of the bed beside his jacket. He'd found himself constantly distracted by her tiny hands as she gestured animatedly. There was a graceful line upward to her shoulder and the sensuous curve of her collarbone. He'd been so preoccupied by the thought of tracing that line with his fingers, feeling her shiver beneath his touch, that he'd entirely lost track of the conversation. Next thing he knew, Jess had kissed him softly, a warm chuckle escaping her lips as his light brown eyes finally refocused on her once again.

"You're terribly distracted tonight, aren't you?"

"Being around you has a tendency to do that to me," he'd admitted, taking one of her hands in his and turning it palm up to delicately trace the line of each finger.

"Is there something else? It seems like you've been rather distracted this entire week, even Lester's commented on it."

"He did?" Becker questioned, leaning forward in sudden distress.

"Yes, he asked me whether I thought you were alright," Jess hesitated, looking down at their hands together. "I wasn't quite sure how to answer. Didn't want to reveal too much."

"And what would have happened if you did?" he asked quietly. "Are you worried about what Lester will say if he finds out we're dating?"

"Honestly, I don't know."

"Would it make you feel better to know that I've already spoken to him?"

Jess gawked at him, eyes wide in terror.

"It's fine, Jess," Becker soothed quickly. "If it weren't, I'd never do what I'm about to do."

As he spoke, Becker reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a black velvet jewelry box. He held it out before him in the flat of one gun callused hand.

"Please, Jess, marry me?" he'd pleaded softly.

The pupils of Jess' eyes had blown wide as marbles. She was holding her breath, chest no longer rising and falling evenly, as if frozen in that singular moment. As he looked back on it he realized that he would rather remember her frozen in time than let the silent movie in his mind continue forward, playing out inevitably to what had come next.

Jess took the velvet box unopened placing it reverently on the bed between them both. She'd taken his hand between both of hers and looked up earnestly into his eyes.

"I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you, Hilary. But until you stop holding back, I cannot accept. I'm not willing to settle for anything less than all of you."

With that, she'd taken the box and placed it in the drawer of her bedside table beside the grey silk scarf before turning back to look at Becker again with a challenge in her eyes.

"When you can give yourself to me completely. When you can wake up here beside me and retrieve that ring for yourself. I'll be absolutely ecstatic to accept your proposal."

Becker nodded quietly. He was angry, exhausted, confused, saddened, and heart-sore. But he understood why Jess had turned him down. Like it? No. Understand it? Yes. Far too well.

~~oOOo~~

"Jess says I'm using religion as an excuse," Becker said tiredly, rolling the cup of coffee back and forth between his palms. "She said that I'm holding myself apart from her physically because I'm afraid to give myself to her completely, afraid she'll hurt me."

"Like your parents," Kellan finished the unspoken statement, not looking up from his plate.

~~oOOo~~

_"Love enables you to put your deepest feelings and fears in the palm of your partner's hand, knowing they will be handled with care."_ - Carl S. Avery


End file.
